A Series of Stories about Characters
by Pokegeek151
Summary: Over the course of my D&D career, I have created what I like to think are many intersting characters. What will follow is a collection of stories about my characters, whether lifted directly from campaigns, modified slightly, or completely made up. I rate it T only because I'm not sure how violent anything will get. Enjoy!
1. Zed

Another explosion rocked the ship, which was tilting drastically to the left. Zed grabbed the nearest doorframe and held on as the he felt the ship begin to right itself.

I can't do this, he thought, panicked. If I go out there, I will die.

Sounds of combat drifted through from the main deck; swords clanging, men calling out to comrades, the hiss of hot lightning on damp wood. He recognized the sorcerer shouting in some ancient language, followed by the airy sound of a raging fire spinning from her hands out to burn all in its path.

Zed reached down and placed his hand on the hilt of his rapier. The worn leather felt familiar in his hands, though it did nothing to boost his confidence.

His hands flew to his ears as a huge boom of thunder filled the air, followed by half a dozen screams as god knows what came down upon the defenders on the main deck.

"I can't do this," he whispered. Slowly, he sank to his knees. "I can't do this."

He was scared, more scared than he'd ever been in his life. He felt like a lost child, all alone and afraid. This was not what he'd been trained for. He knew how to sneak into your room at night and slit your throat so you died even as you dreamt of joyous things. He knew how to gain your trust and learn your secrets, only to leave with you missing the strange little halfling and wondering wherever did he come from. He knew how to spy. But this was a war.

In his mind, he pictured his charred corpse after he was struck by the creature's lightning, clutching the long gash on his side inflicted by one of the cult members' daggers. He saw this image and cried. He simply sat there and let the silent tears fall down his face in the darkness of the lower deck's storeroom.

Like any mortal man, he feared his death. This was no way for him to leave this world. Lady Amalee would miss him.

The tears stopped as he thought of Lady Amalee. Lady Amalee would not cry. She was brave, far braver than her poor little servant hiding away while his companions fought the beast on their own.

Zed imagined his lady's face when she found out that he had died like a coward. She would cry, then. Not because he was weak, but because he was gone. She was too kind to hate him for something as trivial as dying. And that was the worst thing of all.

Zed was a servant. If he were to fail at his job in this way, he ought to be punished. But Amalee would call him a hero. She would be lying, and Zed would have to watch her cry from whatever heaven or hell he went to.

He would not let that happen. He would see her face again, feel her presence in every room, even after she left it. He would live for Amalee's sake, if not his own.

He stood up.

He would fight in Amalee's name.

Once more, his hand fell to the hilt of his sword. Now, as he gripped the handle, he pictured the face of the woman who gave it to him. he would be strong and always stand by his lady's side.

With that image in his mind, he pulled open the door and ran to the upper deck to slay the beast.


	2. Amalee

Amalee stood in the middle of the massive ballroom, uncomfortable in her new lacy gown. There were over a hundred nobles milling about, and the air was circulating poorly, making the room uncomfortably warm even with its high, vaulted ceilings. In addition to the heat, the party had been going on for over an hour, and a fog of alcohol that had settled caused the inside of her nose to burn.

As disgusting as she felt at that particular moment, she knew she had to stay. She slowly took a sip of the water in her champagne flute. The thin crystal was cool against her skin, and she had been making sure to refill it often.

One of the less important members of the Lower Council had just finished speaking with her and had walked away when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she came face to face with a middle aged man that she did not recognize. His arms were incredibly long for a man of his height, and he appeared to be slightly overweight. He was visibly sweating in the heat, and he carried a stout glass in his left hand with an amber liquid sloshing around a pair of ice cubes in the bottom. His deep brown eyes were scanning her small frame, and he seemed to like what he saw. Altogether, he didn't seem like the most pleasant person to be associated with.

She smiled brightly at him.

"Good evening, sir," she said politely. But before she could go on, the man interrupted her.

"I had heard rumors that his highness hired young ladies to...provide entertainment, tonight. I didn't think it was true, but here you are," he said. Disdain was obvious in his voice.

For once, Amalee was at a loss for words. She stood there in awe at the sheer impudence of his statement.

She recovered from her initial shock admirably quickly, though.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" she said.

Now it was the stranger's turn to look shocked.

Following up on her advantage, she added, "I could have you removed from the Council for that."

She was taking a chance. She had no idea if this man was on the Council, though by the way he carried himself with such an air of importance and his sheer audacity, it was very likely.

The look of fear in his eyes was evidence enough that she was correct, so she continued. "Who do you think you are? I should have you thrown out of here this instant." To emphasize her point, she actually turned around in a huff and began walking. She had barely taken a step, however, when the man called for her to stop.

"I-I-I'm terribly sorry, ma'am, I-"

"My lady," she added.

"My lady. I-I-I don't know what to say-"

"Clearly."

"Can you forgive me, my lady?" the man asked, bending slightly so that he could look into her eyes better.

Amalee pretended to consider his request. Finally, she responded, "Tell me your name."

The man grinned, despite the tenuousness of his present situation. "I am Lord Alexander of the Lower Council of Neverwinter. I'm the man who arranged the Tyranus expedition and reopened the trade routes after the cultists were dealt with." His voice was full of self importance as he recited his full title for her.

Amalee frowned slightly, annoyed that he had seemed to have forgotten that she had the upper hand at the moment.

"Well, Alexander," she said, purposefully leaving out his title even though he had used hers. "I am most displeased. I was having a wonderful evening until you decided to come along and insult me." This was untrue; her evening was already awful, but he didn't have to know that.

At that moment, Alexander seemed to realize that, if she did not know him, then she was likely not on the Council, and probably just someone's wife, and thus of less standing than him.

"I don't really suppose that's of any importance to me, though. After all, I am on the Council. What are you?"

His question left her speechless. Politics is its own type of battle, and she did not appreciate the rules being broken in any way. Minutes ago, he had been stuttering and pandering. Now he had the gall to ask her something like that? If she was not so irritated, she would have been amused; his gross overestimation of his own rank was such that he obviously hadn't even considered that he might confront someone higher. It was time for her to play her ace.

"My personal assistant was a key member of the Tyranus expedition. I am Lady Amalee," she told him, and she turned around and walked away before he could respond. Just as she turned, she managed to see his face. It was a look of pure terror, for he had realized that one of the most influential independent nobles in the region was the tiny woman he had just insulted.

* * *

 _Alexander was created by Graham S. I do not own that character._


End file.
